


The Boy with the Wandering Soul

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Character Death, Minor Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pack Feels, Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon Journey, The Hale Pack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Four years ago, Derek was alone and lost. His house had burned down and his family were dead. Cold and tired, he laid down at the foot of a tree and welcomed the comforting embrace of sleep. When he woke, everything was different.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TooFarForward and I were inspired by the Tumblr post based around the lore of the Phantump and the various pieces of fan art that have come from it - http://eyeburst.tumblr.com/post/151205712912/eyeburst-trevenant-it-can-control-trees-at-will - and so we are having our own little Teen Wolf Pokémon Battle and we invite you to join in.
> 
> Battle Rules:  
> 1\. Scott is the trainer.  
> 2\. Stiles is a Fennekin.  
> 3\. Derek is a Phantum.  
> 4\. There must be (at least) one incident: trainer battle, rival battle, Team Rocket, Team Skull, gym leader, or adventurous accident.  
> 5\. Scott must build a team of four or more Pokémon (meaning he has to have or collect two more Pokémon other than Stiles and Derek).  
> 6\. Any gen.  
> 7\. Any ships.  
> 8\. Any length.
> 
> You're more than welcome to join in in any medium (writing, art, whatever you're comfortable with), simply tag Emily (AO3: TooFarForward or Tumblr: toofarforward.tumblr.com) or myself (AO3: CelestialVoid or Tumblr: celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com). There are more details about where to submit on our Tumblr pages and it’d be fantastic if you joined us, regardless of medium or skill level. This battle is open to everyone.

               FOUR YEARS AGO

The cool air stung his tear-streaked cheeks.

He buried his hands in the pockets of his father’s old leather jacket and began to make his way down the snaking path that wove its way through the forest. The pale, bleached bark of the birch trees glowed among the shadows of the pines and dense shrubbery. Their slender trunks were lined with eye-like rings that watched him from all angles.

The soles of his shoes crunched dried leaves and brittle sticks, the echoing sounds of crackling sparking the memories of the flickering flames, the bitter stench of ash and the burning sensation of how the smoke had burnt at his lungs.

His lips quivered as he fought back his sobs, his ears filled with the haunting wailing crescendo of the agonising screams of his family.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, looking about the forest.

The usual autumn tones of brown, gold and red were darkened by the night, now a dreary mix of greys and heavy black shadows. Dense foliage hung overhead, enclosing the space, shutting out the sky and filtering moonlight. Streams of silver light surrounded him, not enough to see but just enough to distinguish shapes from shadows.

There was no fire. There was no house. There was no-one else but him.

He was cold and alone.

He shivered and pulled his jacket closer around him.

The muscles in his legs ached from the strain. He had been walking all day and his body protested going any further.

His hands trembled as he climbed off of the dirt path and found a small clearing. He curled up at the foot of a small tree stump, laying down among the soft cushion of clover and moss.

His eyes felt heavy as his breathing slowed, rasping as it rolled in and out of his lungs. He pulled the overly large jacket around him tighter, burying his face in the worn leather and inhaling the rich musky scent that reminded him of his father, of home.

He found that sleep came to him surprisingly easy.

His eyes fell shut and he melted away through the earth as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When dawn broke across the forest, he blinked his eyes open to the glaringly bright light. The bright orange glow of the morning light burnt his flesh.

He cried out in pain and stumbled into the shadows.

Once safe in the cool embrace of the darkness, he lifted his gaze to the tree stump he had laid beneath.

The cold body of a young boy laid beneath it: his corpse overcome by weeds and flowers. The body had been laying there for what seemed years, slowly becoming part of the environment. The body had been lost to time, vanishing into the undisturbed, undiscovered density of the forest.

How had he not seen him last night?

He crept forward, edging out into the light.

He cried out in pain and leapt back into the darkness, cradling his arm to his chest. He felt tears brew in his eyes, but none fell down his cheeks.

He looked down at himself.

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide with shock.

It wasn’t possible.

He had no legs, only a wispy tail-like shadow. His arms were small and nubby, lacking fingers or joints. His head felt heavy and he staggered about as he receded further into the shadows.

He glanced up at the boy by the stump.

He squinted his eyes and looked closer, peering through the mess of plant stalks, grass blades and vines and noticing the familiar worn black leather jacket that was wrapped around the boy’s torso.

He sank back further.

It wasn’t possible.

 

 

               FOUR YEARS LATER, TODAY

Scott wasn’t like other trainers.

He grew up in a small town just outside of the big named regions, a place called Beacon Hills where the studied logic and knowledge of Pokémon types and habits meant nothing and a common place for strange occurrences and strange Pokémon.

When he turned ten, he didn’t rush to Professor Deaton’s laboratory to get his starter Pokémon, he didn’t grab the first Pokémon he saw and run off on some kind of adventure. In fact, he already had a Pokémon: a Fennekin whom he had befriended years ago and named Stiles. So, on his tenth birthday, Scott showed up at Deaton’s laboratory, collected his Pokédex and trainer ID, thanked the Professor and went on his way.

That was six years ago, but he still had the same attitude.

He didn’t trample through long grass or barrage through forests in order to stir wild Pokémon out of their habitats. He didn’t fight them in order to weaken them and capture them in a pokéball. Instead, he often talked the Pokémon into his team if they wanted to or ran from them if they got startled and defensive.

They were months into their adventure and it was still just Scott and Stiles, but that was okay: they liked it like that.

However, that all changed one day when Scott got lost along the trail in the woods.

The boy wove his way through the trees stealthily, his feet falling quietly among the blanket of littered leaves.

Stiles pranced about his feet, leaping over the thick roots of the trees and looking about the shadows of the dense forest. Occasionally, he would stop and hunch up his hackles, ready for a fight. He would snarl and growl, but nothing would happen, and just as quickly as he had started, he would stop, straighten his back and calm down. And every single time, he would look up at Scott with glittering amber eyes and a look of innocence that made the boy chuckle and roll his eyes.

The light of day filtered through the canopy, the dense forest lit by the thin streams of silvery light.

“Well, Stiles,” Scott said, his voice full of defeat as he looked about the labyrinth of thick trees. “I think we’re well and truly lost.”

Stiles looked up at him and whimpered. The Fennekin took a few steps forward and froze. He growled slightly and crept through the undergrowth towards and opening in the forest.

Scott followed Stiles into the clearing, his eyes falling on the small huddle of Pokémon.

There was a small Rockruff playing with an outgoing Vulpix and a rather shy Growlithe. They seemed to notice the newcomer, falling still and staring at Scott.

Scott froze, his adrenaline-fueled fear overwhelming him.

Two fire types and a rock type in the forest? That was just weird. Then again, this was Beacon Hills.

“Hi,” Scott said quietly.

The three barked at him and sprinted towards the foot of a nearby tree. They cowered behind a small tree stump, looking up at Scott with wide eyes.

Scott crouched down, kneeling among the blankets of clover and dead leaves that covered the forest floor.

“It’s okay, you can come out,” Scott coaxed softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

The small tree stump began to move.

Stiles let out a quiet growl and Scott quickly shushed him.

Scott looked back at the small ghost-like stump. He had never seen that Pokémon before but he had heard rumours about it.

“I thought Phantumps were just legends,” Scott admitted.

The small Phantump rose, floating and glaring at Scott menacingly as he guarded the pups.

Stiles bared his teeth and readied himself for a fight.

Scott did his best to calm Stiles, shushing the Fennekin and talking softly to the Phantump.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “My name’s Scott, I’m a trainer.”

The Phantump seemed determined to ward the boy off, narrowing its fierce glare on Scott.

“I’m not here to fight you or capture you,” Scott insisted. He looked behind the Phantump at the Rockruff that cowered behind the tree roots. “Your friend there has a cut on his face. I have something that could help and some food too.”

Scott shrugged off his backpack and began to rifle through its contents.

The Phantump tilted its head from side to side, watching the boy with curiosity.

Scott pulled out a potion and some snacks. He set the snacks down on the ground before the Phantump and sat back.

The Pokémon seemed wary of them.

Scott reached forward and pick up one of the biscuits. He passed it to Stiles who gobbled it down, proving to the others that they were perfectly fine.

The Phantump turned to the others and gargled slightly.

The pups stepped out of the shadows and crept forward.

The Growlithe picked up one of the biscuits and dragged it into the shadows.

The Phantump crept forward and picked up the biscuit. It nibbled at it slightly before sitting back and eating it properly.

Permission given, the others began to take their own biscuits and eat.

“You look like a ‘Derek’ to me,” Scott mused, watching the Phantump eat.

The Phantump froze and looked up at him.

“Do you like that name?” Scott asked.

The Phantump nodded.

“Okay, I’ll call you Derek,” Scott agreed. He shuffled forward and lifted the Rockruff into his arms.

The pup squirmed in his hold but the Phantump cooed to him and he soon settled.

Scott looked down at him. The pup’s beige fur was covered in dirt and his dark paws playfully pushed at Scott’s hands. His gorgeous sapphire eyes glittered as he pawed at the antidote in Scott’s hold. But Scott’s attention was drawn to the blood-clotted whiskers on his cheek. It didn’t look like a bad wound, but it would need to be treated before it got any worse. Around his neck was a frill of white fur that matched his ruffled tail, but the collar was accentuated by small rocks.

“I think I’ll call you Isaac,” Scott whispered as he picked up the antidote and treated the pup’s wounds.

He set the rock ruff down and smiled as the pup lowered its head and growled playfully, prancing about Scott in a way that looked too humorous to be threatening.

The Vulpix pranced over to Stiles’ side. She shook her head, flicking about the curled tuft of hair that sat on her forehead. Her dark hazel eyes rolled over the Fennekin as she trotted closer. She nuzzled up to Stiles and pranced away, leaving the Fennekin stunned.

Scott chuckled and whispered, “You seem like an ‘Erica’ to me.”

He looked at the Growlithe that hid behind the Phantump.

His stripes looked like they were painted onto his fur. He straightened his back and stood proud, his chest puffed out in a thick mane that matched the ruffled tuft of fur atop his head. His tail wasn’t as ruffled. Instead, it had a slight curl to it, softening the Growlithe’s tough exterior. His curved ears drooped slightly as he crept about the shadows and curled up beside Erica.

“I might call you Boyd.”

The Pokémon looked up at him, tilting his head slightly as if confused.

“Just because I’ve named you, doesn’t mean you have to come with me,” Scott pointed out. “But I would like to be friends.”

Stiles trotted over to Scott’s side, snarling at the Rockruff in his lap.

“Stiles,” Scott growled warningly.

The Fennekin settled, trotting over to the tree and laying down next to Boyd.

“This is Stiles,” Scott introduced. “We’ve been together since I was five years old. He’s my best friend and one of my only friends. My only other friend is Allison, a girl from my home town. Her dad is a Gym Leader and her family members hold places in the Elite Four groups around the world. Her dad really wants her to continue his legacy, but she’s not like them. She’s kind and gentle. She doesn’t battle her Pokémon, she makes friends with them, kind of like I do. But her Pokémon are incredible.”

Stiles huffed and turned away.

“Stiles,” Scott called. “You know what I mean.”

He turned back to the other Pokémon and continued his spiel, “She’s travelled across the world: Alola, Kanto, Kalos, Johto, everywhere. She has a Suicune called Lydia. I’ve never seen it and she’s not technically caught but she always comes back to Allison, regardless of how far she travels from Kanto – the most common place for sightings. And with Lydia comes a Houndoom that she’s named Jordan. It’s so strange: he shouldn’t be able to travel across water but he’s somehow always there with her, and they always come back to Allison.”

Scott looked around the forest, noticing how the light faded and the shadows grew.

“You wouldn’t know a way out of this forest, would you?” Scott asked. He met Derek’s gaze and instantly regretted his words; if the legends were true then that’s how Derek got here: he got lost and couldn’t find his way out.

Derek nodded and chortled to the others.

The pups leapt to their feet and began to make their way through the trees.

Derek followed after them, leading Scott and Stiles through the labyrinth of the forest.

They led Scott and Stiles to the edge of a small river. The scintillating water flowed into a large lagoon, but upstream Scott saw a familiar bridge, the one that lead back into town.

Scott turned around to thank the Pokémon for their help when he saw another creature.

The Salandit reared up on its back legs, hissing as it glared at Derek.

The shadows seemed to gather, the forest darkening as Derek got ready to fight.

The Salandit leapt forward, biting into the wooden stump that formed Derek’s head before prancing back and spraying a mist of poison across the Phantump’s flailing body.

Derek let out a gut-wrenching shriek and stumbled slightly.

The Salandit disappeared into the shadows with Erica and Isaac hot on its tail.

Scott looked back at the creek.

Derek toppled backwards. His body slid down the muddy embankment, consumed by the dark water of the river. The foaming waves towed him beneath the tide.

Stiles didn’t hesitate. He leapt into the water and dove into the depths.

Scott’s cried were muffled by the water.

What was he thinking?

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t thinking.

Stiles paddled faster, swimming down to the bottom of the creek and sliding his body under Derek’s. He braced his feet against the rocky bottom and pushed up towards the surface, kicking as hard as he could. He dragged the both of them to the surface, bursting into the open air and gasping.

The water knocked them about a little, but Stiles did the best he could to stay afloat. He paddled hard and constantly adjusted his hold on Derek to hold him above the surface.

“Stiles?” Scott called.

The Fennekin whimpered, trying to wade against the pull of the tide.

Scott reached out across the water, desperate to reach for his friend.

Stiles thrashed about as he swam closer to Scott, shifting his hold on Derek and passing the Phantump into the safety of his trainer’s hands.

Scott lifted Derek out of the water and laid him down next to Boyd before reaching back for Stiles.

The Fennekin leapt into Scott’s arms, trembling violently.

He wrestled his jacket off and rolled Stiles up in it, trying to keep him warm while also drying him. He shushed the pup, holding him close and rocking slightly as he desperately tried to keep Stiles alive.

He juggled Stiles in his arms, tearing open his backpack and looking through the medicine pocket for an antidote.

He administered it to the Fennekin and waited with bated breath for the pup to settle.

Scott set him down on his feet and stood back as Stiles shook the water from his fur. His limp locks bounced back, still damp and displeasing to Stiles, but tolerable. He was breathing heavily and trembling from shock, but his attention was focused on Derek. He crept over to the Phantump’s side and gently nudged him.

Derek looked up at the Fennekin and chortled as if to reassure the pup that he was okay.

Scott made quick work of gathering small logs and twigs. He set up a small campfire and lit it. He pulled Derek closer to the crackling fire, close enough that it warmed him but not too close that it hurt him.

They stayed like that for hours.

The sun began to set and darkness crept into the woods.

They’d be okay. They had a fire and, if it got too cold, then Scott could just walk back to town.

Isaac, Erica and Boyd had settled and curled up together. They huddled close to Scott, sharing their body warmth with him.

Isaac rolled onto his back and rested his head against Scott’s thigh, smacking his lips and making strange noises as he slept.

Scott couldn’t help but chuckle.

He glanced up, looking across to the fire side, where Stiles had curled up with Derek.

The Fennekin hadn’t left Derek’s side since they were pulled from the river.

A soft smile lifted the corners of Scott’s lips.

Stiles never cared about anyone like that.

_This is going to be one wild adventure_ , Scott thought to himself.

Derek stirred slightly, bolting upright and looking around. His aventurine eyes were wide with fear as he struggled to take in his surroundings.

“It’s okay, Derek,” Scott whispered. “You have us now. We’re going to take care of you, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
